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I love to be comfortable. I love the feeling of knowing that things are working out as they should (or as I believe they should). I love not feeling pain of any kind. I love knowing all is well in the world and that it still spins on its proper axis, orbiting around me and all that I wish to see happen in my life.

So it goes without saying that I abhor and vehemently dislike the opposite of comfort: discomfort. I hate discomfort, with a passion. I have great disdain for any season of discomfort. I strongly dislike any sensation of pain, physical, emotional or spiritual. I hate when I’m faced with the reality that my life is actually not fully in my control and that situations and events can happen to me without my permission or agreement. It hurts to know that the world does not, in fact, revolve around me.

Facing this harsh reality makes me sound spoiled and selfish. And that’s because I am. But it also shows something else about me: I’m an idolater. I worship at many temples daily where statues of myself and all that I wish to see happen are erected in my image and my liking, surrounded by my altars where I choose what is the appropriate sacrifice to be killed there. I worship my comfort. I long for it, pursue it, build my life (and the life of others around me if they don’t take notice) to fit and conform to whatever makes me comfortable. In my world, the only sin is to be uncomfortable. And that is a sin I make sure never happens. I sacrifice, I pray, I live for the god of discomfort. And so do a lot other people I know. And it’s killing us all.

2 Corinthians 1 calls God the God of all comfort. Paul used verses 3-5 explain the how the Lord uses our discomfort for His purposes, and for our personal comfort. That’s right; God uses our discomfort to comfort us.

“Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God. For as we share abundantly in Christ’s sufferings, so through Christ we share abundantly in comfort too.”

‭‭2 Corinthians‬ ‭1:3-5‬ ‭ESV‬‬

1. God comfort us for the sake of comforting us, period. God is not a fan of discomfort in a sadistic way. He is not, nor has ever been a God who takes delight in the discomfort of His creation who He made in His image. He loves us and Has always loved us before the world was made. So He allows discomfort first to show Himself as the ultimate comforter. Meaning that when I take the role of comforter, I’m actually trying take God’s place. And while that may sound slightly hyperbolic, think about this: can a baby feed itself? Not at first, and while he or she can’t, it is unwise and completely arrogant of said baby to think they have the ability to do something they can’t. And if they choose to not let the loving parent do his or her job, the baby will eventually starve and die. In the same way, we are not autonomous self-made creatures who are capable of doing something without the allowance of a sovereign God. They very breath in our lungs is borrowed and will be taken when God seems fit. If He is sovereign over our life, He must also be sovereign over our comfort.

2. He allows us to experience discomfort so that we can comfort others with the comfort that we ourselves have received from God. If you are someone who has personally overcome a difficult and uncomfortable trial by the grace of God, you know the joy of being able to show that hope to someone who is now where you once were. But in order to share in that joy, we must first experience the sadness. Before we can be used to heal, sometimes we have to first be hurt. Discomfort is always a prerequisite for comfort. But this is another way that the Father does not allow our discomfort to be wasted.

3. We become closer to Christ in our discomfort. Paul shows us that as we share in sufferings like Christ did, we share in the comfort He experienced too. Jesus is and was God and will always be. But now the Son of God has flesh and will always have it. He is the perfect human, the type of humanity we were created to be. The second and better Adam. And since He is and was fully human, He experienced true and real human pain and suffering. He is our High Priest who can empathize with us in all things. And discomfort is one of those things. And as we experience discomfort for God’s sake, we are experiencing what our Savior felt. And the promise (and it is a promise) is that if we experience that pain, we will experience the comfort He received. The same Father that comforted Christ, comforts us. The same Spirit that counseled Christ, counsel us. The same angels that ministered to Christ, minister to us. Our discomfort is an opportunity to experience intimacy with our Savior as we are eventually brought into the comfort He was brought into.

The reality is, I still like my comfort and discomfort might always be an enemy I struggle to give God authority over. And although it’s something I’m struggling to be ok with, the truth is that my discomfort is for a purpose. It allows me to see my Father as the only true Comforter, it gives me the opportunity to comfort others and it ushers me into a deeper intimacy with my Savior. And yet, my pendulum still wants to swing towards comfort at all costs. But thank God for the truth. And join me in prayer as I pray that God changes my heart to allow to true Comforter to comfort me at the time He sees fit. He does a way better job than me, anyway.

Black History Month is here once again. Even though it’s the shortest month of the year, and even though Black History should be celebrated year round, I’m grateful that we have this month to pull the country’s collective attention to the history of my people and all the contributions we’ve made to this country.

And every year I watch my non-black friends (mainly my white friends…) struggle to figure out ways to celebrate this month without offending people or without seeming too interested as to make sure they get invited back to thanksgiving dinner and Christmas at the end of the year.

I can’t help you with that last one, but I can certainly help you with the first one! Here’s my short guide to helping non-black (mainly white…) people celebrate Black History Month:

1. Know the history of Black History Month and why we celebrate it.

Do you know how Black History got its start? Do you know who Carter G. Woodson is? If you don’t, google it. This is a month of research for the uninformed. Know how this month came about, why it was started, the path it took to make it happen and why it’s important today.

2. Go see Black Panther (February 16th, y’all!)

Besides it being the newest installment in the Marvel Cinematic Universe, it is a huge deal for the black community to finally have some character representation that spans an entire movie! The fact that I basically can grow my hair out to the exact length and style of Chadwick Boseman and not have to “dress up” as him shows that representation matters.

Also, go see it in IMAX, 3-D, and dine-in theaters only. #Reparations

3. Only buy chocolate on Valentine’s Day

……….self explanatory, really. Plus it’s a good test for your boo thang, because if he/she doesn’t like chocolate, they’re probably racist anyway so now you know! (Kidding……slightly)

4. Learn about someone in Black History that you didn’t know about.

Movies like “Hidden Figures” show that there are people so important in black history that don’t get much of the spotlight due them. Yes we know the Martin Luther King Jrs, the Rosa Parks, the Thurgood Marshalls, and the Jessie Owens. But why didn’t we hear about the Katherine Johnsons, the Dorothy Vaughans, and the Mary Jacksons? This month, try finding about someone you didn’t know about. Black History is everywhere!

5. Learn about how past black history events have affected current American living.

How did George Washington Carver’s scientific research affect what we know today? Did Maya Angelou’s literary work shape what we think and know about Black women? How have the athletic accomplishments of black athletes in sports paved the way for achievements today? So many past events led the way for how America runs today. Try to connect the dots between some of these achievements and today’s current cultural climate

6. Learn about current black history!

Black History is literally happening today! Serena Williams, Simone Biles, the Nigerian Bobsled Team, just to name a few! Black History didn’t stop in the civil rights movement. It is very current. And our knowledge on it should be too! Find something current in black history that you can tell your children or your friends about having witnessed live!

7. Try to research and dispel one lie or myth related to black history that you were taught in school or elsewhere in life.

Christianity is not the white man’s religion. That is just one myth that I hear often that shows that the speaker of such nonsense doesn’t understand the clear African roots of the early Christian church.

Also, did you know that racism is a systematic issue and not an event that is simply boiled down the sporadic occurrences of discrimination?

This myth and many more others are waiting to be dispelled! Find a misconception, or downright lie, to uncover this black history month.

8. Read a book! (Or a few)

Y’all. There are so many books on this issue.

So. Many. Books.

And not just books, but articles, blogs, podcasts, sermons, so many resources to learn about race and racism. In the comment section feel free to put a book that you’ve read that helped shaped your view on race. Here are some of mine

9. Consider going to an event that is celebrating black history this month, or that celebrates it year round.

There might be a black history event around the corner from you and you not even know it. I’m sure watching your child recite only the safe portions of the “I Have A Dream” speech is cute and will get a lot of likes on your Facebook page, but consider going somewhere where you might be the minority. Maybe plan a trip to a museum, an art exhibit, or a production about or celebrating Black History.

Consider worshiping at a black church. Drink in the years of generational style, cultural, and deep faith passed down to us. Soak in the hand gestures, the movements, the oratory stylistics. Be a part of a tradition born on American soil and is every bit as American as your own traditions.

10. Be in prayer for our nation with regards to race

Pray. Racism is evil. Racial division is a notch in the enemy’s belt. He loves division. He loves racism. He loves sin. Pray against it in our nation, in our government, in our systems and in our world. Ask for eyes to see as God sees and for faith to move in kingdom-redeeming ways. Let us all pray that His will, especially with regards to race, be done on Earth as it is in Heaven. Let us ask for a glimpse of the coming Revelation 7:9 church where every tongue, tribe and nation will be found around the throne worshipping God forevermore.

It’s always the first holiday of the new year, every new year. It comes almost as a respite from the havoc the day-to-day work life of the past 2 weeks has already wrought in our personal lives. It can even give us a chance to catch up on that resolution we haven’t done the best at keeping. Whatever it is for you, it comes every year in America: Martin Luther King Jr. Day. First officially observed on January 20th, 1986, Martin Luther King Jr. Day was signed into reality in 1983 and has been observed since. And every year, more now with invention of social media, the quotes from MLK Jr. starting flying across all platforms. Excerpts from speeches condensed to 140 (now 280) characters; Instagram post with pictures of him and another quote listed somewhere under. Long Facebook statuses about the gratitude felt for the sacrifices he made on our behalf to catapult us to becoming a better country. All day; every year.

Now please understand that I believe that all of the accolades are well deserved, for sure. MLK Jr. and those who stood with and adjacent to him have all endured seemingly insurmountable trials for the future benefit of people they would never meet; namely, me and you. But there are somethings that have been bothered me on this day. And tomorrow’s reflection will be no different.

For one, there seems to be this inconspicuous amnesia that somehow plagues the collective mind of America as it looks back on the legacy of this now celebrated man. Most people forget that MLK Jr. was under FBI investigation for most of his public life. He was considered a public enemy and was under surveillance by his own government. Even the inception of giving him a day for celebration and reflection was initially met with opposition. MLK Jr. is now celebrated and heralded as a man who brought this country together; but in his time he was actually considered the exact opposite. Now, you may be thinking that we’ve moved passed this time, so why bring it up now? This brings me to what really bugs me on MLK Jr. day: MLK Jr. Day is day of false peace for America.

I get the term false peace from Jeremiah 6:14:

“They have healed the wound of my people lightly,saying, ‘Peace, peace,’when there is no peace.”

In this verse, Jeremiah is condemning the false and lying priests and prophets. The people of God were to be punished for their sins, yet the prophets wanted to calm the fears of the people instead of faithfully preaching the truth of God and calling them to repentance. Their land, and some of their lives, were about to be taken. Yet these liars wanted the people to believe everything is ok. They sold them peace, false peace, when God had promised them destruction.

This is the false peace being sold on MLK Jr. Day: “Here is a man who is proof that we have moved so far from where we were so lets all reflect on our glorious progress.” And people lap up this insidious lie like devil’s food cake. There seems to be this imaginary participation trophy passed out in society whenever we get to post a riveting MLK quote. There is this ignorantly blissful celebration of progress, where no progress exist. This salute to equality, where none is present. This complacency with past accomplishments as if we made many more recent ones.

I know tomorrow our President is going to say something about MLK Jr. Day. His administration will say something about his legacy, their thankfulness for his service, and their commending us to look forward to a better America, all thanks to this man.

Gag.

These comments will come right on the heels of his “s-hole countries” scandal. But instead of noting the hypocrisy that comes from an administration that can compare whole countries of brown and black people to feces then turn around and celebrate America’s favorite brown and black man, a man who might have very well descended from one of those s-hole countries, he will be rewarded by many for his comments. They will be met with rousing cheers and lots of heart and American flag emojis. Celebrating this kind of behavior instead of mourning it is false peace. It is willfully choosing to see a victory that is not there. It is proudly walking in a lie and boastfully calling it the truth.

False peace is evil. It is demonic. It is not of God. False peace offers what it cannot provide. It writes checks from an empty account. The celebration of MLK Jr. Day as a representation of how well we are doing as a country with regards to race is a lie. This country has only begun to root up its extremely deep race trauma and we have so much more to go. For our country to use this holiday as a way to say we are making significant progress while being the very obstacle of actual progress is a slap in the face to every person of color who still feels the heavy chains of racial inequality in this country.

MLK Jr. is not your scapegoat. He is not your Sambo. He is not your racial reconciliation mascot. He is not your happy negro. He is a man who white America would not like if he was alive today. He is a man who would be labeled a race-baiter. White evangelicals would call him too radical. They would not invite him to their church nor to speak at their conferences. And yet every year we celebrate him as if he was and would be the most beloved man in the country.

So this year, be true on MLK Jr. Day. Enjoy the day off. Reflect on his legacy, honestly. Read “Letter from a Birmingham Jail”. Read the entire speech, not just the part that gives us warm feelings. Think deeply about the racial divide in this country. Think honestly about the damage our country has to repair in this area. Pray for healing. Pray for boldness and hard conversations. And pray for peace, instead of lying about it actually being here.

I’m sorry. I know those words don’t mean much but they seem to be all I can really say. I hate the pain I see you in. I can feel it in your text. I can feel the hurt exude from your fingertips as you type how you feel. I can taste the struggle you breath out. And I’m sorry.

Pain is disorienting. Pain is not logical. It is all feeling. Even physical pain is your brain telling you how to feel. It’s all nerves and messages. And the message is, this hurts. When we are in pain, we can’t logically tell ourselves to not feel that way. We may have every logical reason to not hurt, and yet hurt lingers. Hurt doesn’t need a logical explanation to be present, it just needs the slightest invitation. It is the guest who often is uninvited and stays much longer than asked for.

The Valley of the Shadow of Death is a real place. It’s dark, it’s damp, and it’s very real. David knew it well. And the one thing that brought Him comfort in that place was not relief from it. Sure, he wanted that. You want that. I want that for you; for myself. But it wasn’t relief, then, that he was given. He was given presence; God’s presence. “Even in The Valley of the Shadow of Death, you are with me”. That brought David comfort. Can you be comfortable in a place called the Shadow of death? Can you find rest in the Valley? I’m not sure. But I know even there, you are seen.

I see you. God sees you. Your pain is real. It is valid. It feels like death. It might actual be death. A good death or bad death? I’m not sure yet. But life nor death separates us from our God. He sees. He sees you friend. He sees. He doesn’t need you be strong. He is strength for you. What does that mean? It means at your lowest point, at the point where it all seems pointless and worthless, at the point where the thorn in your flesh seems to drive and rip more flesh than you thought possible, He is strong for you. You are not alone. And you are so loved. So loved. Even now, through your tears and your sadness and depression, He sings over you.

I don’t want you to be better right now if you can’t be. I don’t want you to be strong right now if you can’t be. I don’t want you be anything you can’t be right now. But you can always be wherever you are in God’s hands. I don’t care what you do while there, but just know it’s all in His hands. Shake, cry, mourn, wander, come back, wander again, run, fall, pray for death even; all of it is in His hands.

I know pain is confusing. Why was God silent as the Israelites suffered slavery for 420 years? Why the promise of justice then 400 years of silence before Jesus’s Advent? I don’t know. Maybe a better Christian can answer that; I’m not that person. What I do know, is that it makes no sense for a God who would give up His Son for me to not want to save me. His timing is always perplexing; but He always find us. And He has found you. He found the blind before they could see. He found the lame before they could walk. He found the lepers before they were better. He is attracted to your brokenness because that’s where His glory is seen.

So friend, I see you. I know you want to give up. In fact, you just might. You just might give up and walk away. But know this: God will never walk away from His children. Even when we make our bed in Sheol, He is there. That may not make things better right now. These truths may feel like swallowing poison. But God sees you. He will not give up on you. I only ask that you cry out, one more time. One more prayer, one prayer step, one more lament. Please. But even if you can’t, it’s ok. He is faithful when we aren’t; Jesus saved us when we couldn’t; and the Spirit prays for us when we don’t know how.

This letter is to tell you I love you. And that I see you. And that you don’t have to be anything but what you are right now. But let me end this letter when a little more truth. Yes, you are broken, sad, choosing sin, running from God and confused and hurt. But that is not all you are; in fact, none of those is who you are at all. You are loved; you are found; you are secured and rescued. You are an inheritance for the King of the Universe. You are a treasure in the eye of Father. You are called worth the blood the Son of God spilled for you. You are not your brokenness. You are not your voids, your chasms, your flaws or sins. You are God’s. Right now the eye of the Creator of all things that have ever existed sees you. He sees you.

We are all broken. All of us, fragments of pieces shattered by the fallenness of life and our own experiences and choices. We all have holes. Voids, chasms, and caverns that seem too deep and dark to fill. I’m very aware of my voids. I’m very aware of the empty spaces that occupy my soul; very aware of the holes and vacancies that I carry. And it is in this state, not in some future fixed-up, better version of me, that God tells me to come to Him. To come and worship Him.

In Mark 12:41-44 we find the story of the widow’s offering. Jesus was sitting down watching people give their money to the offering treasury when a widow with a few coins came by:

“And a poor widow came and put in two small copper coins, which make a penny. And he called his disciples to him and said to them, “Truly, I say to you, this poor widow has put in more than all those who are contributing to the offering box. For they all contributed out of their abundance, but she out of her poverty has put in everything she had, all she had to live on.”

‭‭Mark‬ ‭12:42-44‬ ‭ESV‬‬

This woman was a widow, meaning her husband had died and she therefore probably had no way of really generating income for herself. The text doesn’t say if she had children or not, but Mark is very intentional with his description of her as poor and as a widow.

Next, she is seen giving the smallest possible amount of money to give. The Amplified translation tells us that the two coins she gave equaled a mite, which was the least valuable of the Roman coin and equal to about 1/64th of a day’s wage.

So here we have a poor, husband-less woman with only two poor coins to give to the offering box. Although she gives an extremely small amount, you get the feeling that this is actually all she has to give. That she is not being stingy with her offering worship, but is actually being quite risky.

Jesus confirms this to the disciples. He not only notices that the woman gave all she had to give, but highlighted the fact that it is in this spirit that she actually gave the most! How so? Because she gave what she could. In fact, she gave all that she could. Knowing the risks, not knowing the future, probably unsure of when she would see income like that again, she gave. This widow, aware of her circumstances, aware of her shortcomings, her needs, and her holes, instead of waiting for a better fixed-up life, worshipped where she was. It was not her abundance that Jesus highlighted; it was her poverty. Her worship was only worth a mite to her and everyone else; but it was beautiful and invaluable to the onlooking Savior.

This is the image I think of when I attempt to drag myself to church most days. It’s what I try to remember as I pathetically lift my head to God after committing offensive sin against Him. It’s what I try to imagine as the pain and turmoil in my soul begs me to give up and find a way to end the suffering. I try – oh, how I try – to remember that God is not waiting for this more abundant and prosperous version of me to bring to the cross. For it was in my worse possible state, not my best, that He loved me, died for me, and saved me.

So when I think of all the things I need to work on, He says “Then worship me unfinished”. When I see how far I am from where I should be, He says “Then worship me where you are ”. When my pain and suffering feel like chains that won’t release me, He says “Then worship me in prison”. It is in the impoverished state of soul that the Lord loves to hear His children worship. Not because He is some mean God who enjoys watching His children suffer; but because He knows our fragile state and how that can often hinder us. But when we choose to worship Him where are, instead of thinking there’s more to be met before we do so, we trust Him with our all.

If you have anxiety, worship Him there, not when you worry less. If you are struggling with sin, worship Him there, not when you have your life together. If you are depressed and sad, worship Him there, not when life gets easier. If you are hurting, struggling, barely making it, it’s ok; worship Him there, not when your head is above water. This may seem hard. But it’s actually less burdensome. God is not expecting us to have it all together; that’s what Jesus is for. He wants us to trust Him where are, so that He can take us to where He is.

Jesus knows what it’s like to have holes. Just ask Him to show you His hands and feet next time you get the chance. Our worship will often not come out of abundance. Sometimes it will and praise the Lord when it does! But even if your life is poor, for whatever reason, give Him your poverty. Give what you have to give, even if it’s a measly two coins. For God loves holey and mitey worship.

Contentment often seems like the golden snitch of life, fluttering and flying about, only being grasped by the truly worthy and the truly gifted. Which means I must be neither because although I can point to moments where I experience contentment, it has not been the undergirding current of my life.

For those lost on the Harry Potter reference, the golden snitch is a small ball played in the game of Quidditch in the Harry Potter fantasy world. It is the most important ball in the game for the game can only end once the snitch has been caught by the Seeker. And seeing as it’s the most important ball in the game, it makes sense that it is also the hardest to catch.

Contentment often feels like the golden snitch: highly important and valuable for success but ever elusive and hard to seize. The reality is that some people actually have, or seem to have, caught this sought after prize. They walk around confident and at peace, their lives stabilized, their faith secure, and their joy fulfilled.

I’m not one of those people. I think I’ve wanted to be one of those people for while and I’ve tried to be, act and fit in with those people; but I’m not. I’m not content. I’ve experienced contentment here and there, but I cannot say contentment has colored my existence thus far.

Instead, I have longings and desires I crave to be fulfilled and see no opportunity for such. I have wants and urges and impulses I attempt to bring to the feet of my Savior daily, all the while wondering how long, oh Lord. I experience dull soul aches and pains of past mistakes and shames that creep up nightly as my soul and mind attempt to rest. I have doubts, questions, fears, and concerns that have yet to find an answer that quiets them. This is my reality, more often than I want to admit it.

But that’s the problem, really. We don’t admit it. We think everyone else around us has contentment, and since we don’t, we feel the need to lie about it. Instead of owning up to the fact that we actually hate our singleness, or that we feel so much like a failure at being a first-time parent, or that we can’t seem to get past this sin that constantly comes back for us, we lie. We hide. Somewhere along the way we got the false message that good Christians always suffer well. That they always take their discipline on the chin, head and hands to the sky, thanking the Father for their suffering while their hearts explode with joy.

While this may be true at times, it’s not always the case. Paul asks 3 times for his thorn to be taken. Elijah swore the Lord had left him and sentenced him to death. David fought often with his own soul over whether the Lord was actually on his side. What I appreciate most about these men and many others is the fact that they didn’t lie. They didn’t act like they weren’t in pain, in confusion, or in anger towards God. They didn’t save face to keep up with their peers. They weren’t content in their circumstances and they made it known.

We need to stop lying. God doesn’t need your strength, for He is glorified in your weakness. He’s not looking for those who struggle well; He just wants those who can admit they are struggling. God is not impressed with our ability to handle suffering. Faith pleases Him, and faith in discontentment leans on the Lord, asking, begging and pleading the blood of Jesus over their life. Sometimes the answer is to have the trial taken away; other times it’s simply to keep going. Faith, though, is not lying. It is not acting as if you like your life while bitterness secretly eats away at you. It is not posting bible verses on social media that you barely believe yourself. It is humbling yourself by casting your cares onto the Lord. Casting is admitting, not lying.

I’m thankful for my salvation. I’m grateful for what the Lord has given me. The Lord is Sovereign. He is compassionate. Abounding in steadfast love. But even in all of these truths, I can’t say I’m fully content with my life right now. I still have longings unfulfilled, desires unmet and questions about my pain that still seem unanswered. So today I admit I wish my life was different, while asking The Lord for the grace to accept the life I’ve been given. I’ve just simply decided to start talking about it. You should too.

The Trump campaign has never been on the side of people of color. And please do not push Omarosa or Ben Carson in my direction, either. There were many happy slaves that existed, as well, that don’t justify the existence of slavery. The Trump campaign assumed every black person was from the “inner city” and gave the pretentious platform promise of “what else do you have to lose?” This same administration, once in office, has not only laughed in the face of police brutality, but has also been unable, for whatever reason, to outright condemn white supremacy head on, publicly called for the firing of private citizens who have correctly used their right to the freedom of speech, and has most recently called more private citizens “sons of b******” for also correctly asserting their right to the freedom of speech. It is very evident: Trump is not for, nor has ever been, for the people of color in this country. And yes, I believe Trump is racist.

That last statement is incendiary, I know. And while I’m not too concerned with why you don’t agree, although that conclusion is definitely worthy of a conversation, my question is two-fold: how would you explain Trump’s actions to a friend or person of color, and do you know what that conversation does to said friend or person of color?

Lately the evangelical fashion trend has been to use the buzzword “racial reconciliation”, which sometimes seems like a code word for “say something without changing anything”. Regardless, I’m happy to see that there has been actual progress in seeing racial issues as gospel issues, and therefore priority issues. Lots of conversations regarding race and how race impacts us individually and corporately as a church have happened due to this “shift” and I am honestly very grateful for it.

The problem is that in these conversations, there is a rarity that both parties will end up on the same side. Now, this is not inherently the problem for all conversations need to two-sided to be considered a conversation; and sometimes those sides don’t agree. That’s human and it’s necessary for growth. But in an era where the highest office of the United States can use his position to personally and publically call for the firing, and subsequently harassment, of private citizens simply because they do not align with his personal agenda and regime, and when these private citizens are almost always persons of color, to have nothing to say, or nothing to rebuke, on the matter is not only telling but hurtful.

People of color and white persons enter into race conversations at different starting points. The way I see it, white persons can enter into the conversation from the starting point of an onlooker, a researcher, or a student. The onlooker is not interested in emotionally or even deeply connecting with the issue; they simply want to know what is going on. The researcher sees the issue and wants to gather information on it in order to be able to discern and formulate his or her own conclusion on the issue. And the student is simply there to gain knowledge with no intended end goal other than education.

People of color do not get to enter the conversation from this starting point. On the contrary, we are born into the conversation. We do not get to choose a vantage point from which to look at the issue because, in reality, we are inside the issue. Conversations of race for people of color are not simply relaxed rhetoric thrown around for sake of conversation but are, most often, verbalized cries and pleas to see the pain that this issue brings us. When white persons hear Trump call Colin Kaepernick an SOB, they call him stupid; when I hear Trump say that, I call him dangerous.

Coming into the conversation as an onlooker, a researcher or a student isn’t an issue, for me. White persons were not born having to realize or see their color, and that is not a personal fault. But what matters more to me is not how you enter the conversation, but what you do once you are there and what you do after. So often conversations of race turn into historical debates about how much racism used to be a problem and how much “better” we are now. So instead of it being a time where humility and compassion can be employed to talk about a serious issue, it ends up being a battle of who paid attention more in their white-washed history class. And regardless of the outcome, the person of color generally spends a significant amount of emotional energy trying to be gracious with “stupid questions”, rebuff against skewed points of history, and just generally all around try to not look like the “angry black person” to try to preserve some form of credibility. Simply put, people of color often feel the burden to have to prove our pain to our white brothers and sisters and that is extremely taxing.

I wish these conversations were laced with more humility. I wish more people came to learn and empathize instead of coming to “well, what about…” me to death. I wish people could call a spade, a spade and call racism, racism. I wish we could all see that Trump is not only an idiot, but is in fact extremely dangerous. I wish the church spoke more about this, decisively and definitively. I wish Americans could see the hypocrisy in wanting to fight for rights of cake bakers and photographers while supporting the skewering of those who take a knee during the national anthem. I wish America was actually the America so many of my white brothers and sisters believe it was supposed to be, instead of the America it’s always been to people of color.

In the era of Trump, conversations of race for people of color are hard. Not that they have never been hard, but the hurdle seems somewhat higher now. We don’t debate to win; we debate to survive. We argue for our own safety. Criticizing America isn’t about disrespect, it is about personal safety. It is about holding this country accountable to being finally the land of the free. We show you our pain, not so that it can put in a museum and walked by as you read the excerpt next to it, but so that you see this issue has a face. That this issue has a son, a daughter, a brother and sister. Conversations on race are not about winning, for people of color. They are about living.